


Hiding

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2020 [19]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the random AO3 tags comment_fic prompt: 'Merlin, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, "Hiding"'Arthur suspects Merlin is hiding something, and then his father is too, and Arthur wants Merlin to stop hiding things, and to stop sacrificing himself too.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Prompt Fills 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610299
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Hiding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgiepdx (squidgie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts).



As soon as Arthur stepped into his chambers, Merlin spun around and shoved his hands behind his back. He was hiding something.

“What have you got?” Arthur demanded.

“Nothing!” Merlin said, shaking his head, blue eyes wide, the picture of innocence.

“Then show me your hands.”

Merlin blinked, and he had incredibly long dark lashes. “What? Oh. It’s nothing, really.”

“Then it’s still something.”

“Well, er, it’s really nothing. Just —”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Merlin held up a shiny red apple. “See? Nothing. Just an apple. Quite ordinary.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “An apple. Two days before my birthday. In the dead of winter.”

Merlin winced and set the apple on the table. “And a new shirt. Since your birthday is coming up and all. You want to look handsome for the celebration, don’t you?” And he held up a neat blue velvet shirt with gold embroidery at the cuffs.

It would bring out the color of Arthur’s eyes, and golden dragons were quite clever, but there was no way Merlin should have been able to hide that behind is back, or been able to commission something so fine without Arthur being aware of it, especially since he hadn’t been measured for it or otherwise consulted about it, and there was also no way the crown prince of Camelot would wear anything but Pendragon Red for his birthday feast.

Arthur sighed. “I’m not an idiot, Merlin.”

Merlin held up a massive leather-bound tome. “All right, fine. You caught me reading poetry.”

For two seconds Arthur had thought Merlin was going to hold up a magic book, some kind of sorcery instruction manual, and for all that the two of them had agreed to pretend that Arthur didn’t know about Merlin’s magic and that Merlin would pretend to know that he didn’t know that Arthur knew, there was only so much pretense they could keep up.

But it actually was a volume of poetry.

And also not something Merlin could have been hiding behind his back, in addition to an unseasonably fresh apple and a brand new shirt.

Arthur plucked the tome from Merlin’s hands and set it aside. “All right, fine, keep your secrets. Just don’t do anything to get into trouble. I’ll need you by my side for my birthday feast, because Bayard and Odin will be present, and Father will be quite intoxicated and the entire event will be insufferable, because you  _ know _ Morgana’s gift will actually be some kind of punishment.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said, and smiled. 

And then he darted in and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s mouth, quick and warm and sweet, and ducked out of Arthur’s quarters — still hiding something in his grasp.

But Arthur, stunned and happy, let him.

Arthur, stunned and furious, watched his father throw Merlin into the stocks the next day. The winter weather was treacherous. Father wouldn’t say why he’d done it, was furious beyond words, pale — almost as if with grief. 

Gaius, Arthur knew, used some kind of magic to keep Merlin warm.

Arthur begged and pleaded with his father to set Merlin free. Merlin was his servant; Merlin was supposed to attend to him at the birthday feast.

But Father shook his head, pressed a gloved hand to his mouth, and strode away, his fur-lined cape swirling behind him.

Father was hiding something.

Merlin was hiding something, too. He wouldn’t say why he’d been thrown into the stocks in mid-winter, only that he’d been forbidden to speak of it by the king himself.

Arthur was near-miserable through his own birthday feast, barely able to put on a smile. It was Morgana who smiled the most, and then her smile was brittle, icy around the edges and prone to cracking. Father drank himself into oblivion with Bayard and Odin, and Arthur for once was grateful for their drunken antics. He spent most of the evening ignoring the nameless servant who was attending to him in Merlin’s place and staring out the window at the courtyard where other servants — Gwen, pale-faced and anxious as she stood in attendance on Morgana, also kept checking out the windows facing the courtyard — brought Merlin illicit snacks and blankets to keep him alive.

When Father finally released Merlin the day after Arthur’s birthday feast, Merlin was terribly ill, and Gaius kept Merlin restricted to the palace physician’s quarters so he could rest and recuperate.

Arthur brooded in his quarters. What could have possessed Merlin to risk Father’s wrath so?

What was Merlin hiding?

What was Father hiding?

It had to be bigger than apples in mid-winter, a shirt that should not be, an unbelievable tome of poetry.

Three days later, a pale and still-shivering Merlin wrapped in a heavy fur-lined cloak, though one much poorer in quality than Father’s, ducked into Arthur’s chambers long after the palace had gone to bed.

He was hiding something behind his back.

“I’m sorry I’m late to wishing you happy birthday, sire.”

Arthur was on his feet in an instant. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Are you —”

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, stepping just out of Arthur’s reach. “Gaius knows his craft well. I brought you a birthday present.”

“All I wanted on my birthday was  _ you.”  _ Arthur knew he sounded sulky but didn’t even care.

“You have me every day,” Merlin said. “I spent a day in the stocks for this, so. Happy Birthday, Arthur.”

And from within the folds of his cloak he produced a massive framed portrait.

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.

It was his mother, just as she’d appeared in the illusion Morgause had sent him.

“How…?”

“That artist who visited several months back,” Merlin said. “I commissioned it. Rules about sorcery are very different in his kingdom. We did a trade.”

Arthur reached out but didn’t dare quite touch. “Is it really…?”

“The likeness is quite accurate, judging by your father’s reaction,” Merlin said. “He didn’t have the painting destroyed, but he was angry all the same. You deserve to have it. You inherited her beauty.”

Arthur bit back a shaky sigh. Merlin had to hide so many things — his magic, his love for Arthur. His wonderful heart.

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “For bringing me this gift. For sacrificing for me.”

Merlin smiled. “Of course. I had to get you something special for your birthday.”

Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin into his arms, held him. “But don’t hide anything from me anymore, all right? And don’t sacrifice yourself like this anymore.”

Merlin nestled into Arthur’s embrace and nodded. “All right.”

Arthur buried his face against Merlin’s hair and whispered, “Love you.”

Merlin whispered back, “Love you too.”

And Arthur felt all the cold of winter, for just one moment, melt away.


End file.
